The Slayarians - Book One - JM Barnes (different e readers txt) 📗

salvation of his pure sweet daughter.
Two watchmen escorted his youngest daughter home, her blue dress torn and soiled. Her honey golden hair matted and in knots. Her innocent and clear blue eyes stared blankly as if into the realms beyond. Her pouting lips moved but no sound issued forth from her. Tolbin ran to his daughter to embrace her but a terrible shrieking and flailing tantrum held him at bay. His wife and other daughter carried the traumatized girl to her room where she had been since a fortnight ago.
“So you see good sir, that is why I have come to you. You are my only hope of exacting justice for my daughter’s lost innocence. I have four pouches of gold, two months protection from Brolin. These I offer to you in exchange for avenging my daughter’s honor.” He opened his surcoat and there tied inside the breast were four small pouches.
The street hardened look left the hook nosed man for just a moment before he shook his head and spoke.
“You’re not a very wise man. Ya let yourself be caught in a trap that has no escape.” He chuckled grimly. “Do you think that we are so above the law? If I were to give the order to exact vengeance upon the good Watchmaster my guild and every member in it would be burned out and hunted down like rats. No, spice man. I can’t help ya. Be glad ya still have your daughter and give the gold to Brolin. Because for some strange reason ya have made me feel pity for ya I won’t even lift the pouches from ya. Now go, before I have a change of heart.”
Tolbin began to protest but was doubled over in pain by a sharp blow to the gut. When he looked up the man was gone and he was alone again in the street and his dagger lay at his feet.

^ ^ ^

From between two crates crept a silent observer. The shadows clung to him like the early morning dew upon the tall grass. He watched the merchant make his way along the road and out of sight around the corner. He had performed his task in this play well by distracting the merchant long enough to allow Drelk Longfingers to surprise him. He had listened to the exchange between the merchant and his superior in the Shadow Guild. He was touched by the merchant’s story and at the same time disappointed at his part in the meeting. Too long had he been the decoy or the look out for the guild’s activities. Four years he had been among the members of the guild and still they thought of him as little more than a boy. He was small, standing only five foot four inches. And he did have the look of a young boy. Though he was seventeen years old he still had no facial hair and his skin was smooth and clear. Even with the fact that he was small, beneath his black hooded cloak his muscles were corded and primed from years of living on the streets. He knew it would cost him his place in the guild but he decided he would take it upon himself to do the merchant’s bidding. He would prove to the guild that he was no boy anymore. And then he would leave this city with four pouches of gold to seek his fortune. He leapt straight up landing silently upon one of the crates he had been hiding near. His soft elk skin boots made barely a whisper of sound as he alighted upon the wooden top. Without hesitation he leapt again. His fingertips caught the edge of the warehouse roof. Silently with feline grace he launched himself up and over using only the muscles in his arms and back. He landed in a crouch upon the roof. He glanced about for signs of life but all was still and silent. With practiced skill he began to follow the merchant from above.
Leaping from rooftop to rooftop and crossing cables pulled tight to support the buildings during storms the young stalker easily shadowed the distraught merchant back to his humble shop. Tolbin stood before the red wooden door and fumbled momentarily with a small key ring. He turned the key in the lock and pushed open the door. The scent of herbs and spices drifted out as the man stepped inside. Something dropped from the roof above the door. Tolbin began to turn back but was pushed from behind. He stumbled forward and caught himself upon the wooden counter top. He heard the door close behind him and the clicking of the lock as it was set in place. He pushed himself off of the counter and turned to confront whoever it was that had attacked him.
Standing before him was a young boy. He was dressed in a tattered black cloak and faded brown cotton breeches. A pair of well made soft fur boots, obviously stolen from some poor fop, who passed out from too much drink no doubt, rode to midcalf. The boy stood with his arms crossed and his legs spread at shoulder width. His steel gray eyes gazed intently at the merchant from beneath black curling locks that fell to just below his ears.
Tolbin's face reddened with anger. He had been through too much these past weeks and now this boy wished to assault him in his own home? He could take no more and would teach this impish rogue a lesson in manners. He drew himself up and took a step toward the young boy. But before he could take another the youth gave him a wide and bright smile.
“Well met, master Tolbin. I accept the offer you made in the dock ward and will exact vengeance for you and your family.”
Tolbin stopped in his tracks and his look softened. His anger was replaced by a saddened look and he shook his head. “Thank you child for your most noble offer but the matter is beyond you, I’m afraid.”
Now it was the boy who looked angered. “Don’t let looks deceive you, old man. It was no sewer rat that startled you on that street, and no mere boy you look upon now. I am your last hope so think hard on your next words. I’ll take two pouches of gold now and two when the object of your pain lays cold and stinking in the gutter.” He extended his hand and gazed unblinkingly at the visibly shaken merchant.
Tolbin looked back at the youth that spoke with authority and confidence. He gave a short nod and tugged free two small pouches from inside his surcoat. He placed them in the boy’s hand but didn’t release them.
“I want him to know why he is dying.” His voice sounded hoarse with emotion.
“He will know, good sir.” The boy nodded solemnly. “I will see to it. You will hear from me when it is time for the final payment.”
With one hand behind him the boy unlocked the door and pulled the latch. With the other he gripped the two pouches of gold and nodded to the tired and beaten merchant.
“Rest assured soon this will all be over.” With that the boy turned and went through the opened door, melting into the night.
Tolbin could only think of his broken daughter and how this may never be over for her. He stifled a sob and took a deep breath to steady himself. He locked the door to his shop and went through the beaded curtain to his families living quarters. He needed to change and wash up before his family awoke.

^ ^ ^

From darkened alleys and rooftops, behind carts laden with merchandise and in doorways cloaked in shadow he watched his target for several days. He followed discreetly as Brolin made his rounds checking in on his watchmen at their stations. He watched the large soldier bullying the weak and taking what he desired from the hard working peddlers in the open market. He learned quickly where the Watchmaster spent his off hours. He waited patiently in the alley beyond the Twisted Ogre each night as Brolin drank and gambled. He listened in as the man degraded the serving girls and threatened the owner.
How such a degenerate made his way to the rank of Watchmaster was beyond the young man’s comprehension, but it didn’t matter. Soon Brolin Lenkeft would bother no one else.
The Shadow Guild would finally see that their trusty boy was worthy of the respect he deserved. Certainly he would not be able to return to the guild after his job was complete but that mattered little. He had no feelings for anyone there. They were just instruments of learning and he had been taught well. Finally he would be in charge of his own life, and people would learn to respect the name, Ralac.
He crouched beneath a broken cart in an alley across from the Twisted Ogre. It had rained earlier making the hard dirt streets and alleys turn to slippery orange mud. Now a fine mist had crept in from the bay.
The door to the tavern swung wide, the raucous laughter and drunken banter issued out into the streets from within. Watchmaster Brolin stepped out onto the wooden porch before the tavern. He took a deep breath and stretched a moment before making his way into the street. He made his way directly toward the ally where Ralac had set his ambush.
The young assassin slipped his fine steel dagger from within his cloak and drew his hand up into his sleeve. Gently he pulled the dark hood about his face concealing his light complexion. Just beyond his position in the ally lay one of the pouches of gold given to him by the merchant. With one of the coins Ralac had purchased the services of a wizard’s assistant. He had asked the assistant to make the pouch glow in the darkness. It was a simple spell and well worth the one gold coin he had paid for it. The pouch lay there in the mud just past the broken cart glowing faintly with a greenish hue.
Brolin made his way to the alley like he had every night that Ralac had followed him. He could hear the man muttering to himself about ungrateful wenches as he slogged past the living shadow that watched from under the cart. Ralac tensed, preparing to strike like a viper in the tall grass. The Watchmaster stopped before the glowing pouch with his back to the cart.
With a snorting chuckle the man bent forward reaching for the pouch. “Heh, my luck just gets better and better.”
Before his hand touched the glowing pouch it was seized. Ralac darted silently and swiftly from beneath the cart. He reached between the large warrior’s legs and grabbed his wrist with his left hand. He leapt backward still holding the man’s wrist and pulling it back between his legs. Brolin gave a startled yelp as he flipped head over heals and landed on his back in the muddy street. The wind rushed from his lungs from the impact and his left arm lay twisted